Thin Ice
by RadMalfoyCookie
Summary: They say you must always follow your heart, but when your heart has been ripped in half which side do you follow? The prospect of near certain death in the Fourth Quarter Quell definitely doesn't make this decision any easier for District Seven's Elsie Hart. One thing is for sure, though: she's walking on very thin ice...
1. The Reading of The Card

**Author's Note: **First of all, thanks to the clovely BunburyHope who has been really patient when helping me to upload this - I recommend that you check out her stories, they're amazing! Also, thank you so so much to everyone reading this, it's taken me almost 2 months to gather the courage to post my first attempt at a FanFiction, so it means a lot to me that people are actually reading it! I don't want to sound desperate, but it would honestly make my day if you could spend just a minute of your time reviewing my story, I'd love to know what you think of it and of course constructive criticism is always welcome. Thank you again and hopefully, if the response is positive, I'll be posting Chapter Two very soon. Enjoy... :)

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**Thin Ice – The Fourth Quarter Quell**

Chapter One: The Reading of The Card

Soaking in the last drop of the evening sunshine, I turn my head slightly to face Aleks who sits stroking my hair while I rest in his lap. His eyes slide down to meet my own as a gentle smile spreads across his face, my insides melt at once until I have no choice but to grin back.

'Beautiful, isn't it?' he sighs, nodding at the glorious sunset that lines the horizon, subtly emphasizing the distant silhouette of District Seven.

'Perfect,' I whisper in return, for there is simply no other word in existence that could possibly describe this moment, 'Absolutely perfect,'

'You know something else that's perfect?' Aleks questions playfully as he leans in, 'you, my darling'. Corny as hell, but it still makes my heart glow. My eyelids flutter shut as his arms encase me, his lips feel tender against mine.

If only there was a way to freeze time, then we could stay lost in each other, in Heaven, forever; like no one else exists, like nothing else matters. Just Aleks, myself and the stars. His short brunette curls are soft between my finger tips as I run my hand through his hair, messing it up, but it's fine. There's no one around to notice.

No one around, I repeat it inside my head. The silence. It's odd, very uncharacteristic for the thick woodland of my home District. There is always guaranteed to be someone in amongst the dense pine trees, from adults working tirelessly to provide for their young families to elderly folk enjoying the crisp air, but today there's just us: two teenagers trying to escape reality. Our attempt had been successful until I remember where everyone is; where we should be right now.

The mandatory programming.

I pull away from Aleks' warm embrace as soon as the thought hits me.

'Elle?' he mumbles looking almost hurt, his hazel eyes scanning my face.

'Aleks, we've got to go! The programming! We can't stay –' but my muddled sentence trails off as I'm silenced by a kiss, my every thought erased for that brief second.

'Live a little,' he winks before scooping me up off the grass, and holding me in his muscular arms. Suddenly I'm flying as Aleks whirls me around, gripping my body tighter when I feel like I'm going to fall, then laughing and spinning me faster when I squeal with delight.

The world takes a long time to come into focus as I'm placed back on the ground, probably not helped by the sun's absence, but even so the joy on Aleks' handsome face is unmistakeable and I'm pretty sure my face is stretched into a similar look.

He grabs my hand, squeezing it in his and swinging it back and forth. When combined with our moonlit stroll back home, I realise how precious my time with Aleks really is. Only he can create the sense of freedom that keeps me going every day, the one feeling that I crave. With him, fleeing from life's pain is finally possible; as if my family's suffering is nothing but a bad dream. Just a nightmare.

But with the reaping little more than twelve hours away, either one of us could be whisked away to the Capitol; to become another hollow icon to fill their spotlight, to satisfy their simple minds until 'the next big thing' arrives, to fight to the death in the dreaded Arena. What's more, this year is different, it's the hundredth annual Hunger Games: the fourth Quarter Quell. A twist in the already warped plot, a slimmer chance of survival. The Capitol can't get enough of it.

Avoiding the peacekeepers as we dart through the Victor's Village, hands still interlocked, Aleks catches my glance and pulls a comical face. I struggle to suppress giggles, pulling an equally embarrassing face before entering The Roots; the poorest, most neglected area of District Seven, the place I call my home. I leap over a decrepit wall into my garden, at the same time dragging Aleks right into the wall.

Apologising and helping to steady him, I lead him slowly to my doorstep and plant a kiss upon his forehead, standing on tiptoes and wobbling slightly. Replying with a hug, then turning away he walks down the garden path, pausing at the wall to wave and call 'See you tomorrow for the reaping!' a little too loudly for this time in the evening.

At that, the door swings open, revealing my younger sister Isla; the panic is scarcely visible on her face, but I can read her like a book. She ushers me inside before shutting the door without a sound, I find my mother and little brother huddled around the vibrant image of Caesar Flickerman that decorates our TV screen.

Ash sees me enter and beckons me towards the seat next to him. Mother doesn't stir, and instead remains transfixed upon the lively Hunger Games veteran with a vacant expression occupying her pale complexion. Caesar sparkles in his typical midnight blue velvet suit as words pour from his pastel pink lips, which coordinate with the stubby ponytail that adorns the back of his head.

'Now, the hundredth annual Hunger Games is just around the corner, which means it's time for our fourth Quarter Quell!' he announces, clearly thrilled 'To reveal the special twist for these significant Games, please welcome on to the stage, the wonderful President Kennard!'

A figure enters the screen accompanied by the cheers and clapping of the Capitol's devoted audience. Tall and slim, her angular shape is somewhat disturbing, it is obviously an unnatural state for any human being. Framed by a blunt silver fringe; her face, which was perhaps considered attractive in her youth, is now set into an icy glare. Even so the audience seem to hail her as a saint. This feeling of power appears to enliven her, as her deep scarlet lips curl into a poisonous smile. She sourly greets Panem with, 'Good evening and happy Hunger Games to you all,'

You could hear a pin drop in the Hart household, as each of us listen to the hiss of this vile woman. She reminds the nation of the reason for the Hunger Games, followed by the plot and outcome of each of the three previous Quarter Quells; as if any of us are stupid enough to forget. Throughout her droning speech, I hold eye contact with Panem's President, only breaking it to look at each of my family members in turn. The Hunger Games is all we need to help tear this family apart once and for all.

'So... the moment we've all been waiting for,' she says, as a small boy in a white jacket steps forward holding a box. Opening the lid, President Kennard plunges her claw-like fingers into its depths, and pulls out a small white envelope clearly marked '100'. My mind begins to taunt me with all the possibilities. She clears her throat.

'On the hundredth anniversary of the Capitol's victory, as a reminder to rebels that even the older and wiser citizens of Panem cannot outsmart the Capitol, the age range for male and female tributes will be extended; now tributes between the ages of 12 and 30 will compete to become the next Victor.' She seems somewhat disappointed with the draw, it is not deadly enough to satisfy her hunger for bloodshed.

'Thank you, President Kennard,' responds Caesar in his sing-song voice, 'This year's Games certainly promises to be an explosive one. Who's excited?' Eager screams from the crowd answer his question; their enthusiasm is sickening, 'I simply can't wait! Anyway, we'll be returning at the earlier time of half past seven tomorrow to review the day's reapings and to discuss the competition ahead. But for now, goodnight Panem and may the odds be ever in your favour!'

As the National Anthem sounds to conclude the programme, I can't help releasing a faint sigh of relief. More potential tributes, less chance of being reaped tomorrow. My body relaxes, and I feel calm again for my sake and for Isla's. It's her first reaping, and luckily the odds seem to be very much in her favour.

I look around to notice that my mother and Ash have fallen asleep, they look so small. So vulnerable.

'Should we wake them?' Isla questions, yawning slightly as she speaks.

'No, let's take Ash to bed and leave mother here. She's too weak to be lifted, if we're not careful she might snap in half!' my half-hearted attempt at a joke has clearly back fired, for both Isla and I know that it is the truth. My mother is so thin and frail, it seems as though little more than a poke would break her arm.

We hoist our brother into the air and carry him along the corridor to our bedroom, which we share between the three of us. Depositing him beneath the thin duvet of his bed, I collapse on to my own painfully springy bed as Isla sits neatly upon hers, staring into thin air.

I brush my hand against the peeling blue wallpaper then turn to my sister, 'Come on, Isla. You're going to need a lot of sleep to get through tomorrow,'

She forces a weak smile, and it makes me feel somewhat guilty; as if the reapings are my fault. 'I feel far too nervous to sleep. You can't say that you weren't scared before your first reaping, it's impossible not to be!'

'I was,' I reply, remembering it vividly, like it was yesterday, 'Even after five reapings, I still panic. But I can assure you, your name will not be called. They tend to go for the more attractive kids anyway,'

We both laugh, and suddenly everything seems less serious. 'Hey!' Isla cries, sending a pillow hurtling towards my head, 'I guess that's why you haven't been reaped then,' she counters with a grin. I dodge it by an inch, and chuck it right back at her; trying hard to savour our happiness.

After catching it and rearranging her mountain of thread-bare pillows, Isla motions to me to sit next to her. I shuffle across the room and place myself upon very edge of her bed, holding her in my arms like I did when she was a toddler. Her head is supported by my chest, I let my head descend on to Isla's and I whisper into her hair, 'It's going to be fine. I won't let the Hunger Games harm you, or me, Ash, mother or even father. Wherever he may be,' Somehow I have to try and keep that promise.

Then I tuck my sister under her duvet and turn out the light that dwindles softly on the ceiling. My bed is stone cold but still it beckons to me, and before I know it my eyes are shutting out the room; allowing sleep to take over.


	2. Reaping Day

**Author's Note: **I didn't expect to spend this long writing chapter two, but I've had loads of coursework to do at school and I've been alternating between writing a chapter for Panem Facebook: Fights and Fantasies (a collaboration with MissBunburyHope - please check out the first chapter if you have time! We'll love you forever :D) and Thin Ice. And after watching The Hunger Games in an eight film marathon yesterday and the day before with MissBunburyHope, I was inspired to finally finish this chapter. Anyway, here it is... Enjoy! :)

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**Thin Ice**

**Chapter Two – Reaping Day**

I wince as my feet touch the wooden floor. A sharp coldness seeps through my skin, right into my bones, when a thought surfaces in my mind: its reaping day. I stand on the spot, frozen, as I gather the courage to abandon that thought and pad towards the bedroom door.

The sound of my siblings' soft snores fill the air. And as I feel my fingers close around the door knob I pause and drink it all in; the way Isla's slight frame forms a caccoon in the duvet, how Ash's big toe protrudes from the hole his socks, their delicate faces somehow seem like rare luxuries. It's funny how The Hunger Games can change your outlook on life.

Without realising, I know exactly where I'm heading. Pulling my dressing gown around my shoulders, I weave through the gap left by the open front door. She's out there. Waiting. My mother, who is dressed in nothing but a thin nightdress to battle the morning chill, fails to acknowledge me as I perch upon the bench beside her. She continues to focus on the distance; looking for my father.

All of her mornings are spent this way. Even eight years after my father disappeared, she still waits for him – though she knows, just as well as I do, that he won't ever return. I'll never understand why she hasn't given up hope.

'He's not gone, you know,' my mother says suddenly. The sound of her voice, combined with a sharp gust of wind, makes me shiver. A reply is just forming in my mind as she breaks the silence for me; 'I saw him.' I sigh.

'Mum-' I begin, but I am cut off.

'You don't believe me, do you?' my mother sniffs, 'In the days just after your dad disappeared, he was there,' she explains pointing to the old farmer's market that sits opposite our house, 'I don't know how long he'd been there, how he'd got there or where he'd been but I could tell he was waiting for me. The wind ruffled his hair as our eyes met. He smiled through tears and put a finger to his lips, before walking away. That was the last I ever saw of him, Elsie.' There's something in her voice, a pang of despair, which tells me this is not a lie; and it really hurts me to hear the truth.

But I can't cry, not now. Today of all days I need to be strong. Begging my eyes not to release a waterfall of tears, I find mother's hand and wrap my icy fingers around it. 'Do you think he misses us?' I question.

'Much more than we'll ever know, darling.' she whispers, as her silvery eyes search the sky for some form of answer, perhaps expecting father to have made lodgings in a cloud.

Then, coaxing her like a five year old, I help my mother stand and lead her tentatively to the kitchen. I reach for the cupboard, opening it gently to avoid it being ripped from the wall. Mother smiles with gratitude as I pass her half a slice of stale bread; our breakfast is far from satisfying, but it leaves enough to provide Isla and Ash with a slice each. Growing children like them need all the food they can get.

The sun is beginning to stream through the curtainless windows, it reminds me of my childhood summers: the days seemed to last an eternity, and our happiness never died. Nostalgia is truly a terrifying thing.

Pacing through the hallway, towards the bedroom, I meet a bleary-eyed Ash. He mumbles a quick 'Good morning!' before shuffling past me on his way, judging by his swift fidgety steps, to the bathroom. I thank God that Ash won't be taking part in the reapings today, he has two years of freedom left – time he should savour.

Behind the bedroom door, I find Isla; tears in her eyes once again – I have no choice but to let her fall into my arms. I know it's hard, I know how it can hurt, I've been there; I've lived it too. And I wouldn't wish this feeling upon anybody. There's nothing I can say that she hasn't already heard, everyone we know has taken it in turns to repeat the same good luck nonsense to her. Anyway, to me all the encouraging comments and well-wishers mean less than nothing; fate is inevitable.

Father's wooden clock sits proud on the window sill, boasting to onlookers that the time is 10 o'clock: only an hour left. I whisper something about eating breakfast to Isla. She turns, letting her lips touch my cheek for a brief moment, and then she's gone.

Goosebumps have made themselves known up and down my arms. Walking out into the hallway, I decide to make use of the bathroom. A cold bath is the perfect opportunity to arrange my thoughts and prepare for the hours ahead.

After towelling my hair and shivering body dry, I slide open the wardrobe doors. The dress I eventually pick out is a powder blue, with the hem finishing an inch or two above my knees. The string of daisies sewn in just below my ribs attempts to pick out some curves in my body. Squeezing my feet into my mother's cream-coloured brogues, I run a brush through my hair. I try hard to force a smile at the girl in the mirror, but it presents itself as more of a grimace.

Fastening a golden bracelet at my wrist, I jump as someone knocks at the door. Aleks pokes his head around the door, and this time my smile is genuine. 'Hello, beautiful,' comes his greeting, as a pair of strong arms settle around my waist.

Playfully I look around as if searching for someone else within the room, 'Oh!' I respond with mock surprise, 'you were talking to me?' a grin simultaneously forming on our lips.

Nuzzling into my neck, he laughs, 'Well, your mother is looking pretty good too but I think she's a bit old for me...' I reach to slap his cheek, giggling. Aleks always knows how to make me feel better.

I can feel his breath on my shoulder as he says, 'They're all waiting for you in the kitchen, we'd better go soon if you don't want to miss the excitement,' I check the clock: 5 minutes.

We run into my mother as we enter the hallway. 'Come on,' she bustles, almost like her old self, 'we need to leave now,' my siblings hover behind her, dressed in their reaping outfits; the fear evident on their faces. Any positive words that I might have said flee from my brain, and I'm so glad that Aleks steps in to comfort Isla.

'Don't worry about today, Isla. There are hundreds of children just like you across District Seven, across the whole of Panem – I can almost guarantee that it won't be you who's reaped. Not you, not me, not Elsie; we'll all be fine, I know it.' Aleks' soft tone is so reassuring that Isla allows herself to believe him, and for a second so do I.

With his words fresh in our minds, the five of us traipse over to the town square, where the entire population of District Seven, give or take a small number, awaits any last arrivals.

Once the blood has bubbled from my index finger, signing me in, I wave goodbye to my family and Aleks, as we all go our separate ways. Like a sheep, I follow a group of girls to my line. The Justice Building looms about 100 yards in front of us; I assume once upon a time it looked impressive, in contrast to the dilapidated shell that stands there now. From several rows behind, Isla shoots me a petrified look as the national anthem sounds.

Cassius Lemark - District Seven's escort - takes to the stage. An alien would be the most accurate description for this bizarre creature. The pile of yellow corkscrew curls upon his head resemble an electrocuted canary, whilst swirling gold tattoos replace his eyebrows and frame the most piercing blue eyes the world has to offer. As white as a sheet, his skin is perhaps the only area of his body which hasn't been injected with colour. From between his salmon pink lips, a set of sparkling teeth try to befriend us all with a smile. No one is convinced.

Not put off by our lack of enthusiasm, Cassius continues. 'Happy Hunger Games, District Seven! And may the odds be ever in your favour!' the Capitol accent lingers in the air, dying in the silence. An awkward introduction is followed by a new propaganda video to celebrate the Quarter Quell, then yet another recap of Panem's history; and once again we are relayed the reason for the Hunger Games. It's clear to see the amount of sleepless nights that our escort has spent rehearsing and reciting this robotic speech. Practice, it seems, does not always make perfect.

'Now,' says Cassius with a smug glance into the crowd, taking the time to absorb our expressions, 'shall we select our first tribute? Oh, where to start?' his blathering about the stage is really testing my patience, 'This year we'll begin, I think, with the ladies...' he advances towards the glass bowl containing the name of every teenage girl in District Seven, and I hold my breath.

Turning to my right, I see Aleks, who is busy exchanging whispers with the boys around him. He picks up my stare, and signals a thumbs up to me. Not even this can calm me now. The words 'Isla Hart' rebound against the inside of my skull. Clenching my fists I convince myself that it's not possible. They wouldn't pick a twelve year old. Surely not.

Ornate purple fingernails caress several slips of paper before settling upon one. Lifting it from its resting place in the bowl, Cassius holds it within cupped hands as if it were a delicate flower. Then, sliding a finger beneath the shiny green seal, he stares at the name it beholds.

'Elsie Hart'

I turn around, looking for the poor young girl who has been chosen. That's when I register my own name. My arms hang lifeless at my side as I swallow the announcement. My feet feel like two tonne weights, and my muscles fail to lift them. A nervous whisper ripples across the crowd. 'Elsie Hart? Please make your way to the stage, my dear.' repeats Cassius.

As a child, I always imagined striding confidently up to the stage, conducting my District's attention like royalty. The reality comes closer to a mindless wander, as I sluggishly push through the crowd to the aisle.

I can feel my head throbbing as I lose consciousness. Humiliation sets in even before I've hit the ground, and there's an agonizing moment where I lay, sprawled out in a muddled heap, in a state directly between wakefulness and a disjointed dream – I can do nothing but watch the fuss breaking out around my limp body. I'm grateful for the moment when all my emotions and thoughts are sucked away, as the world fades into black.

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**Author's Note: **I really hope you liked chapter two, I promise that chapter three will be up at some point soon... And this time I mean within a few weeks, not 2 months :P And do you see the little review button at the bottom of your screen? Go ooooon click it, you know you want to... It will make a certain RadMalfoyCookie very, very happy :)


	3. Saying Goodbye

**Author's Note: **I'm sorry for the big gap between chapter two and chapter three but I have been so busy recently! Buuuuuut here it is, thank you to everyone that has stuck with me and read the story this far... Hope you like it :)

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**Thin Ice**

**Chapter Three - Saying Goodbye**

The only person not crying is Aleks. But even though a reassuring smile is glazed across his face, I can see the gentle tears building in his eyes. After all the years I've known him, I'm surprised he thinks he can fool me; very few people can these days. His fingers interlink with mine, they squeeze my hand softly.

My mother rests her right hand upon my knee, stroking it just as she did when I was young. Her other arm encases Isla and Ash, both of whom appear bewildered. Just like me. The five of us huddle upon the rich violet couch, and no one says a word. Whilst I caress the gold embroidery of a small velvet cushion with my free hand, my mind begins to wander.

With my death lingering no more than a couple of weeks away, why have I nothing to say to those I'm leaving behind? The people I love most in this world deserve more than just a cold silence as my final goodbye. But the moment here is so precious, I fear breaking it by saying something foolish – something which I cannot take back once I'm lying dead in the Arena.

The Arena. Even the name itself has an air of mystery, who knows what it will hold? Wild oceans? Great, I can't swim. A desert? There's nothing to eat but sand. Lava-spewing volcanoes? I'll be burnt to a crisp in seconds. They're unpredictable and dangerous; just like my opponents. I have no chance. And that's why the Capitol love it.

I can bear the silence no longer. My words cut the atmosphere like a knife: 'I want you to remember me as I was,' I say, looking to each of their faces in turn; pausing on Isla before continuing, 'because whichever way I return to you, I will be different. '

'But you will try to win, won't you Elsie?' pleads my sister, the desperation is evident in her tone. I'm unsure how to respond to her; everyone knows that losing means death, but at the same time winning means a lifetime living with metal scars from the Arena: a fate far worse than death.

I nod slowly, 'I want more than anything to come back home, but all twenty-four of us in the Arena want the same thing. And only one is going to triumph -'

'I wouldn't worry about it,' Ash chimes in gloomily, 'you'll be dead soon.'

Isla gasps and I can feel Aleks tense beside me. I watch as my mother raise her palm to my brother's face, and before I'm able to control my reflexes, I've flung my arm over to grab on to her wrist. 'Leave him,' I tell her, my voice comes out more forceful than I had intended. My mother crumples onto Ash's shoulder, ashamed of her actions, her hazel eyes weeping yet more tears. Rubbing the crease of her back slowly, in some attempt to comfort her, I turn and address Ash, 'So you don't think I can win?'

'There's no reason why you can't, but just think of the Careers, Elle. They'll be twice your size with a whole lifetime of training behind them and those Capitol freaks will be tripping over themselves to be sponsors... And what have you got? Nothing.' Ash reasons, sounding far older than just a humble 10 year old. His words speak nothing but the truth, which coming from my little brother is unbelievably hard to hear. I sigh.

Ash smiles slightly, 'Give it your all, I know you can win.' he says, standing up to wrap his arms around my waist.

'Thanks, little man' I whisper, using all my strength to muster these words before the tears fall from my eyes.

Through the blur of teardrops, I can just make out the outline of a peacekeeper as he bursts through the door. 'Your time's up,' he barks, motioning for my visitors to leave. In an instant, Isla hurls herself against me, and clutches my body until can barely breathe; my mother comes and presses her lips against my forehead. My family stands in this muddled embrace until we hear 'Mrs Hart, you and your children are required to leave now. I have a team of half a dozen peacekeepers waiting to remove you if necessary. Please leave the room.'

Reluctantly, she steps backs and peels Isla and Ash away from me. 'Good luck, sweetheart,' is the last thing she says before dragging my siblings out of the room, looking swiftly back over her shoulder to see me in the flesh for the last time. The peacekeeper disappears without another word and leaves me to sink back into the couch.

I smack my head onto the arm, throwing my fists wildly into the first thing I can grab, my hands shake uncontrollably and fierce tears streak my cheeks. Sadly, there's just no satisfaction in beating up a cushion.

'The train leaves in 5 minutes, Elle, we'd better be ready,' The voice is sweet and calming, it brings me to my senses. Aleks. I'd forgotten he was still here. My eyes meet his and I feel like a guilty child. I force myself to agree, the fight slowly seeping out of my veins.

'I – ' comes the beginning of my sentence, but I can't put into words all the things I'm trying to say.

'I know,' Aleks whispers, 'I know it's going to be hard. But come on, we can't be late for this,'

He places his hands on my shoulders and guides me out of the same mahogany door my family vanished through just minutes ago. A great marble hallway materialises as we wander through the Justice Building; the sunlight hurts my eyes as we emerge out onto the stone steps that look to the town square. In front of us, a jet black car is waiting with a chauffeur holding the back door open. He glances gingerly at his watch. Cassius Lemark paces nervously, and almost jumps out of his unnaturally white skin as we approach him.

'Thank Heavensbee for that! I thought you'd never show up! Honestly, the train leaves any minute now, what are you playing at?' he babbles mindlessly as Aleks and I are bundled into the car.

Having never been in a car, I simply stare at the little plug to my right, waiting for it to do something. 'Here, let me,' offers Aleks, reaching over my body to grab and cord and secure it into the plug. His warm scent drifts into the air reminding me of our limited time together; but this time I hold back the tears, instead allowing an emotionless expresion to occupy my face. There's likely to be photographers at the station, after all.

Throughout our short car journey, Cassius makes several useless attempts at making conversation, but no one responds. Out of the blacked-out window, I watch the train station draw near, suddenly dreading the moment I have to step out of the car and face the world.

'Oh, where are your smiles?' Cassius taunts, 'You look like someone has died!' his camp laughter is infuriating.

'Not yet they haven't,' I snap, a strong hatred for him oozing deep within me.

'Now, now.' Cassius coos as the car comes to a halt, 'sponsors could be lurking anywhere, so make a good impression on them, please.' I fill my lungs and reach for Aleks, who welcomes my hand with a kiss. I exhale all my negative thoughts, and convince my mouth to grin for the cameras. I am ready.

We shove through crowds of photographers and interviewers, each one trying to catch a glimpse as I head off to meet my death. I decide to wave to them, feeling Aleks' arm around me as he flashes that jaw-dropping smile at the camera lenses. With Aleks by my side, I push on, preparing to face another stampede on the other side of the double-doors.

Inside the station, however, I am relieved to find it empty, with only a couple of peacekeepers to bid me farewell as they guard the entrance. We cross the foyer, our footsteps echoing around in the high stone ceiling and bouncing off the walls. Through the exit that lies twenty yards ahead of us, I spot the train already sitting upon the track awaiting it passengers. I allow Cassius to continue on ahead and board the slate-grey vehicle, emblazoned with the Capitol's emblem, as I turn to Aleks.

'Be good while I'm gone.' I wrap my arms around him, 'I've seen the way Jeanette Reeves looks at you – I'd watch out if I were you' I wink, Aleks chuckles and pulls me closer.

'I don't think you need to worry about that,' he tucks a loose strand of hair out of my eyes and leans in to kiss me. It's a tender kiss that speaks for a thousand words, I savour the taste of his lips wanting to hold on to them forever. But I'm distracted as a question pops into my mind.

Pulling away, I raise one eyebrow as the question develops my lips. 'Aleks, I completely forgot to ask,' I pause, 'who's my District partner?'

His face falls, I see him swallow. It makes regret wondering. As his eyes drop slowly to the floor, he shuffles his feet awkwardly upon the platform before providing me with the answer.

'I am,'

'No,' I shake my head in disbelief, 'No, i-it can't be...' but the usual cheeky glint in his eye has faded; and we both know that this time Aleks isn't joking.

I whirl around, carelessly smashing my arm into the hand rail, and dash onto the train before he can see my tears.

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**AN: **Well, thank you soo much for reading this chapter, I really appreciate it :D please review and let me know what you think!

Love and cookies,

RadMalfoyCookie x


	4. The Capitol Awaits

Thin Ice

I am selfish. After all the sympathy, the hugs and the kisses Aleks gave me in the Justice Building, I just ran away. I left him alone on the platform. And I hate myself for it.

Having abandoned my District Partner, I flew into the first room I laid eyes on. Thankfully, it turned out to be a bedroom.

The walls are a very pale aqua, complimenting the deep jade green duvet perfectly. The pillowcases are the same shade of green, their silk surprisingly good at absorbing tears, I observe. I throw my fists wildly, and they make brief contact with the pillows surrounding my head, as a throbbing begins to surface in my right hand.

Cassius must have heard me crash on to the train, as he knocks on the door, asking if I am alright. Perhaps if he was slightly less pompous and downright infuriating I may have had the decency to tell him to go away, but instead the sound of his ridiculous Capitol accent makes me cry howl even harder.

I have no idea how long I've been here when I finally convince my eyes to turn off the waterworks. It feels like days. I contemplate standing up for several moments, then give in, letting my legs slip down onto the soft, ivory-coloured carpet, and walk me over to the window.

We must be in the transition stage between District Seven and District Six as the fir trees are beginning to thin out and become sparse as the hovercrafts and looming grey vehicle factories set in around us.

I simply watch as my home slips away, my family and friends become just distant memories. I lean against the wall, wishing I could let them go, like crisp autumn leaves from an oak tree; but I can't. I just can't. My body weakens and I slide down the wall until I'm huddled with my chin on my knees below the window sill.

I resurface from a trance-like state when I here footsteps and muffled voices on the other side of the locked door. The conversation is hushed, but I just manage to catch, 'Please try. We can't sit back and let her to cry herself to death,'. I take no time in assuming that the 'her' could only be me.

The door knob rattles gingerly and I almost take pity on the stranger, before remembering I am in no mood for awkward heart-to-hearts. Finally, after a minute or two, I hear an agitated grunt come from outside and they slowly back away.

I breathe a sight of relief as silence falls again.

Until the door comes flying off it's hinges, and lands with a deafening thud against the wall within inches of my body. Shaking slightly, I dare myself to glance up.

My eye line is greeted by a tall, grey-haired woman with a menacing stare.

Probably in her fifties, judging by the deep wrinkles set into her forehead, her frame is skinny but undoubtedly powerful nonetheless; a hit from one of those bony fists could quite easily have me out cold again.

My mentor and I make brief eye contact.

'Johanna?' I offer, taking in her haphazard crew cut and ill-fitting military uniform, establishing quickly that she is not one to mess with.

'Elsie?' she responds, screwing up her pale face as she mimicks my tone.

Why this attempt to cheer me up has offended me, I'll never know.

'Cassius sent you, didn't he? What does he want?' I ask, seeing no harm in being blunt.

Johanna brings her face scarily close to mine, 'Cassius didn't tell me to do anything! We reached a joint conclusion that someone needed to coax you out of this pit before you drowned in your own tears. And since I am clearly the more friendly and accessible of us, I was elected to do the job. Any questions?' her approach is so aggressive, I ignore my initial impression to tread carefully and instead take no heed in countering her attack.

'Yeah, just one. Did you brush your teeth this morning?' I widen my eyes, and put on the sweetest smile possible, 'Because your breath reeks,'

The lack of noise is eerie. I half expect a slap across the cheek from Johanna, but instead she looks me up and down, then throws back her head and gives a loud, raspy laugh before looking at me in the eyes and smiling.

'Y'know what? I admire your guts, kiddo. Make sure, whatever you do, that you don't lose that fire in the Arena, okay?' Johanna laughs again then pauses, 'Cass will be doing his nut in there, you'd better go and show your face,'

'Ugh, he doesn't care about me - all he cares about is his next pay check!' I point out.

'Aleks is in there,' she winks, knowing full well that my boyfriend will lure me out of the room. I huff, defeated.

Wiping away any trace of tears with the hem of my dress, I stand up.

'That reminds me, Cass says wear something nice to dinner, he doesn't want you and Aleks acting like 'slobs' on Capitol property. Your wardrobe is over there and dinner will be served in 15 minutes,' she relays to me as she leaves.

'I'll see you in 5!' I call after her, though due to the lack of response I assume she hasn't heard.

A small gasp escapes my lips as I slide open the ebony doors to my right. The wardrobe is absolutely breathtaking, materials of every colour imaginable are styled into numerous elegant and equally beautiful outifts, and each one was made just for me; it really is every little girl's Heaven. I stare in awe at the clothes, brushing my fingers delicately across each, before finally making my choice. The blouse is pure-white and floaty, it's flawless colour broken up only by the tiny black buttons down the front. From just below my ribs, a tight black pencil skirt reaches to about four inches above my knees. My feet are still bare because I love the rich softness of the carpet between my toes.

I secure the zip at the rear of the dress, ignoring the sharp pains that shoot through my hand as I begin to rummage around the room for a hairbrush. When nothing comes to light, I decide to pull my hair loosely over one shoulder, shrugging at my reflection before heading off to the dinner carriage.

* * *

'Hey Johanna,' I say, as I enter the carriage, 'Aleks, Cass,' I continue to greet those around the table.

'Cass!?' snorts the District Seven escort, as he chokes on a vibrant purple liquid, 'My mother gave me the name Cassius after my great-grandfather Cassius François Lemark, the finest stylist ever known to the Capitol, therefore that is what you are to call me, Miss Hart,'

'She should've called you irritating ponce...' mumbles Johanna before taking a gulp of white wine. Aleks and I struggle to disguise our giggles.

'Okay then, _Cassius_,' I say, deliberately over-emphasising his name, 'Have you heard anything about the other Reapings?'

'Sadly not, but don't you worry, we'll have a chance to size up the competition after dinner, when the Reapings are on television,' he replies as I settle in my seat next to Aleks. It seems my partner has forgiven me, as his fingers close in around my hand. I wince as the pain returns.

'Oh good Lord, Elsie, look at your hand!' exclaims Cassius, 'We'll need the medical team to examine that when we reach the Capitol, you know...'

It's the first time I've seen the damage. The only thing I can think to say is 'Oops,' as I admire my stupidity.

A thick line now runs across the back of my right hand, from the knuckle of my index finger to where my arm meets my wrist. Mottled with a mix of brilliant reds and blues, the bruise is just waiting to ooze into a majestic purple colour tomorrow. On top of that, my index finger has swollen and now resembles a small, mishapen sausage. Brilliant.

I laugh nervously, pulling my glance away from my casualty to carry on the previous conversation as our dinner is served.

'So, does this mean the whole nation is going to see me faint on TV?' I groan, tentatively poking the orange concoction before me with a fork.

'Probably. It only means that everyone will see how cute you look in your sleep though,' smiles Aleks; Johanna raises her eyebrows at Cassius on the other side of the table, I blush fiercely.

'You should try this sauce,' he says, still looking at me, pretending not to notice Cassius and Johanna's smirking, 'It's delicious!' I notice that Aleks has already devoured most of his enourmous plateful, so I convince myself that whatever it is can't be poisonous. Lifting the fork to my lips, my nose takes in the food's wonderful aroma; and I can resist no longer.

Aleks is right: it tastes incredible, delicate and sweet with a surprising sour punch. My plate is empty in no time.

'Banana, anyone?' our escort offers, holding out a curved yellow thing to us all. Both Aleks and I refuse, having never seen one before, but Johanna happily takes it, peeling away the outer layer and then chomping away on the innards. Aleks' face is a picture.

When I look back to the head of the table, Cassius has left and already made his way over to the gigantic television that is spread across the the far wall. It switches on with a buzz, as Cass beckons to us 'Care to join me?'.

'Nah,' calls Johanna before marching out of the room, only to return minutes later with another bottle of wine in her hand. Aleks invites me to sit with him on a loveseat and we both cuddle up as the re-caps begin.

'Good evening Panem, from me, Claudius Templesmith,'

'And me, Caesar Flickerman. Now today, there's really been a buzz in the air all across Panem as we find out exactly who receives the honour of representing their District in the Hunger Games, and not just any old Games, is it Claudius? This year, tributes will be fighting to win the Fourth Quarter Quell!'

'That's right Caesar. And because this year sees a milestone Games, there's been a slight rule change for our tributes: competitors will now be aged between 12 and 30, which has given us a really wide range of tributes for what I'm sure will be a thrilling Quell. And believe me, there's some real gems for us this year.'

'There most certainly are! So fasten your seatbelts, ladies and gentlemen, we're about to take a trip round Panem to check out this tributes,'

'Hold on tight, boys and girls, this could be a bumpy ride...'

Districts One and Two pass with little surprise: all four of them volunteer, a tall, athletic male and a stunningly beautiful female from One, and a pair of cousins in Two, both equally muscular and frankly quite terrifying. They are definitely ones to avoid, I conclude.

In District Three we wait for several minutes for a tiny 12-year old girl to come forward, tears streaking her face. 'Poor little Trinket,' says Cass, shaking his head. Her partner, however, shows little emotion as he makes his way to the stage with his face set into an icy glare.

I stare out of the window, tuning out the commentators as District Four's female tribute is called. Then the name 'Finnick Odair' booms out across Panem, and my head whips round to check that I'm not going mad.

I am unable to speak as this gorgeous man strides out from within the crowd, positively radiating confidence. The cameras zoom in on this image of perfection: showing how his bronze hair has been tousled slightly, the way his muscles flex gently as he walks, the glow of his tanned skin as its caressed by the sweet sunshine. And those eyes! The legend certainly doesn't lie; two pools of the most incredible sea green, with that undeniably cheeky glint.

Suddenly, a tidal wave hits me. I'm overwhelmed by his beauty, and I ache to kiss those irresistable lips, to link hands whilst watching tides stroking the shore of District Four, I long for Finnick's embrace.

My finger nails dig into the loveseat as I try to escape these thoughts.

'But isn't he...dead?' I ask, though the angel before me is quite clearly alive.

'No, brainless,' says Johanna, 'that's his son, Finnick Odair Jr.' I just nod, as I think my voice might just fail me at this point.

'I guess we know who's going to get all the sponsors then,' sighs Aleks grumpily.

Frankly, I'm glad when we move on to the next Districts. No one particularly shines in Five and Six, just another four people wanting to kill me. And then we reach Seven.

I watch through my fingers, cringing as they show me plummeting to the ground.

'Oh dear,' coos Claudius Templesmith, 'thankfully, we can confirm that Elsie has now regained conciousness, and is safely on her way to the Capitol as we speak,'

'That certainly is a relief, isn't it? What is really lovely about District Seven's tributes this year is their relationship - just watch at how Aleks looks at her, Claudius! - I really think that their love for each other will keep them going in the Arena,' replies Caesar, Aleks squeezes me softly as he's pictured carrying my limp body into the Justice Building.

I don't need Finnick, I tell myself, trying to banish images of racy encounters on a moonlit beach from my mind; I have Aleks.

The last five Districts hold little threat to Aleks and I, except possibly Gallagher from Eleven due to his age and size. But as he lumbers forward to volunteer for a dark-haired little boy, I decide that he's a gentle giant. Seeing him lead the boy back to his parents then take his place on stage, gives me an odd sense of hope. I can't think why, he'll be fighting to kill me in a matter of days.

When we finally reach the District Twelve reaping, I am somewhat exhausted. 'Cynthia Haynes' is summoned to the stage, and I sit forward in disbelief as my sister mounts the stage.

Everything about this girl reminds me of an older Isla, from her posture to her cute button nose. As her short blonde hair catches the light, I make a mental note to become allies with this Cynthia; since my sister can't be here, an exact replica of her seems to be a good alternative for now.

At long last, Caesar and Claudius forbid us to miss tomorrow's tribute parade before they both explode with excitement. They wish us 'Happy Hunger Games!' once again before signing off with the national anthem.

'Well then,' announces Cass from the striped armchair, 'you two are really going to have your work cut out, I think. Thank Everdeen you're better than last year's tributes, eh?'

'Hmmm...' is all Aleks replies before exiting the room, leaving me in a slumped heap on the seat.

'Did I say something wrong?' comes Cass' voice, as he searches Johanna and I for some reassurance.

'Don't worry, I'll talk to him,' I huff, before following Aleks steps.

* * *

His back is facing me when I come to the train's rear window. Rays of sunlight spread across the sky, as the sun is slowly devoured by the horizon.

'We'd better cherish these sunsets while we can,' he whispers. I take a step closer to him as he leans upon the barrier.

'Al?' my hand reaches for his shoulder.

'Well let's be honest,' Aleks says, turning to face me, 'how many more are we going to see? Five? Six? Our time's running out, Elsie,'

'Please don't think like that, we have as much chance as all the other tributes,'

'But that's not true, is it? The winner will have trained all their lives, they'll be quick, they'll be smart and strong! They have a better chance than both you and I put together,'

'Honey, you're all of those things! With an axe you'd be lethal, the Careers will be dying to ally with you!'

He sighs, and grabs a hold of my hands, cradling them softly.

'There's only one person I want to ally with,' Aleks whispers, staring into my eyes, 'and I'm going to make sure she wins,'

'No,' I tell him firmly, 'If I win these Games, I'll be winning them with you. We're in this together,'

Aleks' kiss is tender and lingering, saying what a thousand words could not. His cheeks are damp with tears when I pull away.

'We are going to survive this, Aleks. We_ are_. And _nothing _is going to get in our way,' I say, waiting for him to return my smile.

Aleks nods somewhat obediently and we dissolve into each other once again.

* * *

**Author's Note: Hey guys, hope you're all alright! No, you're not dreaming - I am actually updating after all these months! I really feel like I should have a decent excuse, having not updated in so long, but I honestly haven't... Sorry! **

**I'd just like to thank MissBunburyHope and 14spiraltree for their lovely reviews of chapter 3 and also hungerthegames for following too - it means a lot! :D**

**Anyway, I'm hoping to post the next chapters of Thin Ice soon, and maybe even some of my new ideas aswell - until then, please review and let me know what you think of Thin Ice! **

**Love, RadMalfoyCookie :)**


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